


She's a Lady

by truth_renowned



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Humor, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: Peggy and Daniel have a solid lead on Jack's shooter, and it's Peggy's job to convince Jack to go along with her plan.





	She's a Lady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lillianmmalter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianmmalter/gifts).



> Title inspired by the song of the same name (written by Paul Anka, sung by Tom Jones).
> 
> I can't give enough thanks to my beta Paeonia. This story wouldn't have been finished without her advice and encouragement.

“No. Absolutely not. Not gonna happen.”

Jack crossed his arms across his chest, his eyes so narrowed Peggy wondered if he could see her. He half-sat on the edge of Daniel’s desk while she stood near the closed office door. 

Daniel had thought it best if she broached the subject alone. This was going to be an almost impossible sell to Jack, but she had to do it. It was the first real lead in Jack’s attempted murder. He would be angry if he wasn’t included in on it. Of course, he was going to be angry about the way she wanted him included….

“We need your help,” she said, a hint of pleading in her tone.

“Not this way you don’t.”

“We don’t have anyone else we can truly trust. We have no idea how far Vernon’s reach has gone.”

“I know that. I’m in on the job but not this way.” He frowned. “What about Rose?”

“She’ll be there at the coat check. She’s our eyes when Vella enters and will let us know what direction he is heading after he leaves that area.”

“But she could go in with you instead.”

“No she can’t. Her ankle still isn’t healed from her surfing accident.”

Both she and Jack glanced into the bullpen. Rose, who was stuck using crutches, moved toward the filing cabinets, wincing every time she put weight on her right leg.

“I need someone who can move faster than that,” Peggy continued. “And how would she hold a gun if needed?”

“But I’m still convalescing,” he said, a whine sneaking in to his voice.

Peggy turned back to him. “You told me that you… what were your exact words…’never felt better’.”

“I was lying.”

“Which is exactly why you’re perfect for the job. I need eyes and ears, and someone who is mobile. I can’t possibly cover that entire ballroom by myself. We need at least two agents in there. You know better than anyone that standard operating procedure requires backup.”

Jack huffed out a laugh. “Since when do you follow SOP?”

“Jack,” she admonished.

His eyes narrowed again. “Carter, I am _not_ dressing up like a dame. No way.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t the only way,” she replied. “It has to be two women going in.”

“The Jonathan Club is a gentlemen’s club. I’m a gentleman. Add a fake mustache, glasses, and I’m good.”

“We couldn’t get an invite for a man without bringing attention to ourselves. This is a very exclusive event, members only. They will know if a male stranger is in their midst. Whereas women are there to… well... let’s just say, they’re there to entertain the men.”

Jack shook his head. “You’ve had some wacky ideas, Marge, but this one is downright asinine.”

“It is not,” Peggy said defensively, walking forward and handing him a photograph. “This is Jack Vella, now known as Jack Whatley, an up-and-coming film director. He’s had half a dozen films released, the last one to critical acclaim.”

“So?” 

“So… we just uncovered a few facts about Mr. Vella. Number one, he’s closely connected to the Dragna family. He and Louis Dragna grew up on the same block, got into the same trouble, hence the reason Vella reinvented himself as Whatley several years ago. One of my informants said Vella and Louis are still ‘thick as thieves’.” Peggy ignored Jack’s eye roll and continued. “And number two, he’s the stepbrother of Hugh Jones’s wife. That’s a direct connection between the Council of Nine and an Italian crime family, and to your shooting.”

That got Jack’s attention. “Wait, you think I was a mob hit?”

“No, I think it was on the Hugh Jones end, though one of Dragna’s associates likely was involved.”

“So the brother-in-law found someone to do Jones’ dirty work.” Jack’s forehead furrowed. “That’s pretty thin, Marge. Just because he’s related to Jones doesn’t mean he ordered a hit. And besides, Vella… Whatley… whatever his name is, he’s not gonna give up his brother-in-law, and that means he won’t give up the Council. Not to mention, if any of the Dragnas finds out he’s waggin’ his tongue at the feds, he’s a dead man.”

“He might if we put enough pressure on him. Jack Vella has a rap sheet several pages long as a juvenile, and he has a few as an adult, including assault and battery. If that were to get out, Jack Whatley the film director will be ruined.”

Jack pursed his lips, still not convinced. “I don’t believe it. We’re talking about the Dragnas here.”

“Exactly,” Peggy responded. “Vella will not tell the Dragnas he’s talked to us. As you said, if they find out, his life not only will be ruined, it will be over. But he’ll talk to Jones. We’ve kept surveillance on Jones for months but he’s been a model citizen. If word gets back to him and he starts circling the wagons, we’ll know he was involved in your attempted murder.”

Jack shrugged but didn’t respond. He knew she was right.

“Thanks to Jones,” she continued, “Vella has membership to the Jonathan Club. Jones is on the board of directors and he convinced the others that his movie director friend... he failed to mention the family connection... would be a good fit for the club. On the surface, Vella is. Nice-looking, successful, supposed family money. The spitting image of a Jonathan Club gentleman.”

“What about Jones? How do we deal with him if he shows?”

“I have it on good authority that he’s out of town and will not be at the party.”

“You sure about that? Because if he’s there, he’ll definitely remember you, disguise or not.”

She met his gaze, knowing he could see the determination in her eyes. “This is the first solid lead we’ve had in finding who tried to kill you, Jack. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. She could tell his resolve was cracking. At least she hoped that was what she was seeing in the softening of the lines around his eyes and the relaxing of his shoulders.

“You have absolute confirmation that Vella will be there?” he asked.

“Manfredi assures me he’ll be there.” 

“Wait a minute. Manfredi? As in Joseph Manfredi, the mobster, the guy who hates Dragna’s guts?” He snorted a laugh as his defenses went right back up. “Oh, yeah, he’s a real reliable informant, Carter. He’ll do anything to hang Dragna out to dry.”

So much for Jack warming to the idea, she thought.

“I trust him,” Peggy replied. “We have a history.”

He put up a hand. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what your history is. I am not dressing up like a woman just because Manfredi says one of his rival’s pals will be partying it up.”

“He’s telling the truth, Jack. This has nothing to do with Dragna. It’s about Hugh Jones, who tried to kill Whitney Frost. Manfredi gave up the love of his life to us, to save her, to keep her alive. Turning her in broke his heart, but he knew it was the right thing to do.”

“What a saint,” Jack sneered. “That just tells me he has an axe to grind with Jones.”

Peggy matched his sneer. “I know better than relying on just Manfredi’s word. We’ve had confirmation about Vella from one of Daniel’s informants, who happens to be the kitchen manager for the Jonathan Club. Apparently Mr. Beaumont was caught up in one of Daniel’s cases months ago, which resulted in some... legal repercussions. Daniel thought Beaumont’s position would come in handy at some point, so he made his problems disappear in exchange for being an informant.”

One corner of Jack’s mouth curled; Peggy knew he was as impressed with Daniel’s forethought as she was.

“So, to answer your question, Vella will be there. That means _we_ need to be there.”

“ _We_ can be there without me playing dress-up.”

“There’s no other option, Jack!”

“There’s always an option!” He tilted his chin up, motioning to Daniel, who was in the bullpen talking to two male agents. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Daniel?” She rolled her eyes. “Nothing says undercover like a woman wearing a man’s prosthetic leg.”

“Then buy him a women’s leg.”

“Jack,” she said, her hand on her hip. “You know as well as I do it can’t be Daniel.”

“Well… what about one of those guys out there?” He pointed to the bullpen.

“Two of those guys, Myers and Andretti, are part of it as a backup in case Vella tries to run. Vega said he gave up everyone loyal to Vernon Masters, but none of us believe that. Right now, Myers and Andretti are the only ones we really trust. They’ve been told the minimum and they know better than to ask for more information.” She raised a hand. “And before you ask, no, neither one of them can go in with me. I need someone who is solid in the field, has extensive undercover work, and is able to improvise on the spot. Also, someone who can easily interact with high society.” Peggy could see the shift in his eyes from sarcasm to pride. She’d hit that cocky nerve of his, the one that kept telling him he’s the best of the best. She lightly grasped his arm. “It’s you, me, Daniel and Rose on this, Jack. We can’t afford for word to get out beyond that, and we can’t let this chance slip through our fingers. You know that.”

She watched myriad emotions play out on his face: anger, defiance, reluctance and finally resignation… or at least that was what she hoped she was seeing.

“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled, shaking off her hand.

She nodded, fighting a triumphant smile. “Meet me at Howard’s tonight. Ana Jarvis is going to custom-make a dress for you and she needs your measurements.”

“Wonderful,” he snapped as he brushed past her, pulling the door open so quickly, it slammed against the wall. She watched Jack ignore everyone as he left through the bullpen exit. 

Daniel made his way to the office, closing the door behind him. “How did it go?”

“As well as could be expected, but he agreed.”

He nodded slowly. “This is going to be interesting.”

“Interesting wasn’t the word I was thinking,” she said, wondering how, or if, this was going to work.

\-----------

_Three days later_

Entering Howard’s main sitting room, Peggy found herself the only one there. Surely Jack must be ready by now, she thought as she placed one gold mesh and one black velvet clutch purse on a side table. She’d gotten ready quickly, considering she’d had to don a wig, choosing one the color of cinnamon. The wig was rolled and parted deeply on one side, and she’d secured the hair in place with a pearl and rhinestone comb. The wire used to hold the jewels in place on the comb was an earpiece in disguise. She had to hand it to Howard; the man had wild ideas but some of them actually worked.

Ana had laid out for her an oxblood-red dress with a generous neckline and ruffles at the hem and short sleeves. She wore a deep brown mink fur stole, though it was too warm for it. It was a necessity; they needed a reason to check in at the club’s cloakroom, and since Jack would be suffering enough clothing-wise, Peggy would take the hit.

While she waited, she ran over the plan highlights in her mind. For simplicity’s sake, she was Margie and he Jackie. Rose would be in the cloakroom wearing sound-wired glasses, similar to the ones Mr. Jarvis wore at Calvin Chadwick’s fundraising party. Daniel and Myers would be in the surveillance van, which was a bakery delivery vehicle. Andretti would be posted outside the emergency exit door, dressed as a bum rummaging through the garbage. Once Rose gave word that Vella had entered the ballroom, she would make her way to the van. Just before Peggy made contact with Vella, she would alert Daniel and Myers to enter through the kitchen’s delivery door.

It was a solid plan, as long as Vella showed. And as long as Jack didn’t back out.

Mr. Jarvis entered the room and nodded to Peggy. “Ana and Chief Thompson are right behind me.”

Both she and Mr. Jarvis stared at the hallway for nearly a minute but no one appeared. Peggy heard Ana say, “Come on,” and then Jack mumble, “I look ridiculous.”

Ana appeared in the entrance, smiled at Peggy, then turned toward the hallway. “You look lovely and very convincing, dear. Now come on out.” She held out her hand behind her and waited several seconds before a hand encompassed hers. A hand covered in black satin.

Peggy’s hand went to her mouth, hiding her dropped jaw, as Jack… Jackie entered the room. The wig, blonde and pin-curled, looked natural, the length sitting just above his shoulders. The wig had the added benefit of an earpiece woven into its mesh. The makeup job was masterful; Peggy knew Ana would have had to cake on the foundation but it didn’t look overdone. The contouring along his cheeks and jaw took away some of the sharpness of his male features. Though his eyelids had neutral shadow colors, his thick mascara-enhanced lashes made his eyes stand out.

The A-line dress, which fit his generously padded form perfectly, was a medium turquoise color with black piping along the long sleeves, waist and bottom hem. Ana had thought of everything, Peggy realized as she admired the silk scarf around his neck. The abstract print highlighted the colors of the dress and trim, looking like part of the outfit but doing its main job of covering Jack’s Adam’s apple. The gloves did their best to cover his decidedly male hands.

Her gaze swept down, admiring his legs, which looked quite shapely in the black nylons. The shoes were low-heeled black pumps with a single strap across the top.

As soon as Peggy trusted her voice, she said, “Ana, you really outdid yourself.”

“Thank you,” Ana replied with a demure smile. “I am happy with the way he… she… all of it turned out. Finding women’s size thirteen shoes proved to be the biggest challenge, but my husband worked his magic.”

Mr. Jarvis tipped his head. “Mail order catalog, rush fee. Courtesy of Mr. Stark.”

“I would say to thank Howard for me, but I have a feeling he doesn’t know he paid.” Peggy turned her attention back to Jack, giving him another once-over. He seemed both angry and uncomfortable at her scrutiny.

“Jack, I have to say,” Peggy said with as sincere a smile as she could muster, “the turquoise really brings out the blue in your eyes.”

That lovely blue disappeared as his eyes narrowed to slits. 

“Shut up, Carter.”

Peggy muffled a laugh as she picked up both clutches, handing the black one to Jack. “A comm piece in the form of a ladies compact is in there. I assume the small revolver is in your garter holster?”

Jack’s look dripped with disdain.

Mr. Jarvis cleared his voice. “Shall we leave?”

“Yes,” Peggy said, motioning for Jack to go ahead of her. Mr. Jarvis led them down the hall and opened the front door. Jack clomped his way outside.

“Lady-like steps,” Ana yelled after them.

Peggy swore she heard Jack growl as he reached the car. He opened the front passenger door, but she put a hand on his arm.

“We sit in the back,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because Mr. Jarvis is our driver. It would look out of place if you got out from the front seat and me from the back.”

Jack sighed heavily, then moved to the back door, climbing in.

Peggy thought his entrance wasn’t lady-like, either, but she kept her words to herself as she got in, Mr. Jarvis closing the door behind her. She was surprised at Mr. Jarvis’s control; she knew there had to be dozens of snide remarks swirling in his head. Probably some of the same ones Peggy was thinking.

The first several minutes of the drive was spent in an awkward silence, the only sounds being Jack squirming, sighing and pulling at his nylons. She could tell he was about ready to call off the entire operation, so she kept the conversation focused strictly on the mission. From her clutch, she withdrew a folded piece of paper.

“I already know the plan, Carter,” Jack said with a huff. “I got this.”

“I know you do, and you bloody well know that protocol calls for a final review. Daniel will be doing the same with Rose, Andretti and Myers, if he hasn’t already.” She unfolded the paper to reveal a hand-drawn floor plan of the first floor of the Jonathan Club. 

“The bar is back here,” she continued, pointing to an area at the top right side of the paper. “Waiters will be offering the usual champagne and hors d'oeuvres on trays, but Manfredi says Vella hates champagne, so much so that his first stop always is the bar. He orders a Scotch on the rocks, only Macallan Fine and Rare, the best Scotch whisky the club serves. The bartender knows him on sight and will have his drink ready before he reaches the bar.”

“Only the best for your friendly neighborhood lowlife,” Jack said with a derisive snort.

“Here’s the hallway to the janitor’s closet and kitchen,” she continued, her finger moving to the left and tracing between two long blue lines, stopping at a dead end, which then led to a perpendicular hallway. “Right near the entrance to the first hall are restrooms. Keep walking and the closet is just off to the left down the second hallway, a few feet from the emergency exit door. Beaumont claims the closet is intentionally left clear for the members and their lady friends to… mingle, and the emergency door is not wired during party hours so couples can leave without notice. Beaumont will be in charge of unlocking that door and making sure the closet is clear for us, as well as planting a purse in there in case Plan B needs to be implemented.”

“That’s a lot to give someone who may or may not want to help us.”

“Daniel is very confident he will come through.” Her finger moved to the right on the floor plan. “At the opposite end is the kitchen, which has three entrances: one swinging door at the very back of the ballroom, for waiters to refill their trays from the kitchen; one outside door for deliveries, where Daniel and Myers will enter once I initiate contact with Vella; and one for access to the hallway to take out food waste to the Dumpster out back.”

“Where Andretti is,” Jack said with a mocking tone. “And my job is to cover you. Like I said, I got it.” He turned his head away, looking out the side window.

Peggy gave up after that, choosing to keep her mouth shut lest she say something that would anger him to the point he would change his mind. Luckily, the rest of the ride was a quick one, less than ten minutes to the brightly lit entrance of the Jonathan Club.

After parking at the curb, Mr. Jarvis hurried around the car, opening the back door. He offered a hand, helping Peggy out. She smoothed her dress and stepped up on the sidewalk. 

Jack refused Mr. Jarvis’s hand, but Peggy cleared her throat. Jack sighed, then allowed Mr. Jarvis to help him out of the car. 

With her compact out and opened, Peggy pretended to be checking her lipstick. “We’re here.”

“Got eyes on you,” Daniel responded in her earpiece. “And Jackie… hubba hubba. Sorry, Peg, I think I’ve found a new girl.”

“You’re a dead man, Sousa,” Jack snapped, his jaw tensing as Peggy heard Daniel’s chuckle.

“Don’t listen to him,” Peggy said. “Daniel, has Beaumont secured the janitor’s closet?”

“Yeah, everything’s set. You’re clear to go in.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jack took a step forward, up onto the sidewalk. His second step wasn’t quite as graceful; he wobbled, his ankle going sideways. Peggy and Mr. Jarvis reached out to steady him. 

“I got it,” Jack barked, batting their hands away.

Peggy bit her bottom lip to stifle laughter begging to be voiced, but Jack noticed.

“I hate you, Carter.”

“I’m sure you do,” she replied calmly. “You can continue to hate me after our job is done.” 

Peggy nodded to Mr. Jarvis, who rushed around to the driver’s side of the car. He pulled the car away just as Peggy and Jack reached the open door to the club.

They stepped inside, and Peggy considered the dark wood surrounding them, broken up only by gold wallpaper in a damask pattern. To the left of the foyer were two overly stuffed armchairs wrapped in blood red velvet. A bench covered in the same fabric was across from the chairs, creating a cozy conversation area. She somehow thought the decor would be manlier, not the Victorian throwback she was seeing.

“May I take your wrap, ma’am?”

Peggy turned to her right to see Rose behind a waist-high counter, coats hanging on one side and hats on the other.

“Yes,” Peggy said, removing her fur stole and handing it to Rose, “that would be lovely. Thank you.”

Rose hung the stole across a hanger, a paper ticket with the number 18 hanging on it. She handed Peggy a ticket with the same number.

Rose then focused on Jack, mirth shining in her eyes. “And you, ma’am?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing.

”Nothing for you then,” Rose said. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Jack stomped off, then corrected himself, standing tall and taking lighter steps. Peggy followed but not before hearing full-bellied laughter coming from the cloakroom.

The ballroom was a stark difference from the front entryway. Gone were the dark wood and red chairs, replaced with light wood floors and small tables with cream-colored dinner chairs dotted throughout. The room was smaller than Peggy expected; the word ‘ballroom’ usually suggested a large room with space to dance, but this was much cozier. Along the left wall was a large fireplace surrounded by armchairs upholstered with fabric similar to the dinner chairs. The only decor that connected the entryway and ballroom was the wallpaper, the gold covering the top two-thirds of the walls with off-white wainscoting along the bottom. 

There were far more people in the room than she had anticipated. Manfredi said attendance was normally 40 to 50 people. There had to be close to a hundred for the event. Perhaps that was why the room seemed smaller.

“Keep an eye out for exits,” Peggy mumbled as they walked. “And smile, Jackie.”

“Smiling wasn’t part of the deal, _Margie_.”

A man in black pants and a white jacket, carrying a tray of nearly full champagne flutes, approached them. He offered to Peggy and Jack, and both declined with a smile. The man winked at Jack as he continued past them. 

“You’ve already made a friend,” Peggy mumbled.

“I’m a likeable guy… gal,” Jack responded tightly.

A squat, bald man dressed in a black suit shot them a smarmy smile as he walked by. She glanced over at Jack, whose jaw jutted out, set in anger.

“What’s wrong?”

“That guy grabbed my ass!” he hissed.

Peggy put her arm on his. “Let it go, Jack...ie. Don’t call attention to yourself.”

“I wasn’t…” Jack suddenly stopped walking and leaned toward her, smiling, though Peggy knew it was anything but a happy gesture. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am an SSR agent, a chief even. I know better than to blow cover.”

“I know you do,” she answered with a matching smile, as if they were having a friendly conversation.

“Do you? Because to me, it seems you don’t think I know what I’m doing. As a matter of fact, you’re implying the hell out of it, telling me the plan _again_ in the car, look for exits, don’t blow my cover.” He let loose with a giggle. Peggy had to fight a flinch; who knew Jack’s voice could get that high? “You only asked me to do this because I have undercover experience, but you also know that I am first and foremost a professional. I know what I have to do, and even though I’m not happy about it, I will do it. You do your job and I’ll do mine. Got it?”

She swallowed but kept the smile. “Loud and clear, Jackie.”

They continued into the room, passing another man with a tray displaying an assortment of hors d'oeuvres, which both waved off. Partygoers, male and female, passed by, nodding or voicing greetings, which were returned by Peggy and Jack.

As Peggy scanned the room, the floor plan came to life in front of her. She spotted the bar in the far right corner. Two men were chatting as they waited for their drinks to be made by the bartender. Men and women were scattered around the area in between, some sitting but most standing. Reading body language, she could tell who would be going home with whom. 

“I don’t know how you put up with it,” Jack said quietly.

She turned to him. “With what?”

“Strange guys pawing you.”

Peggy figured the conversation was an olive branch and she gladly accepted it. “Normally I let them know just where they can put their paws.”

Jack chuckled. “Should have known.”

“When I was younger, though, that wasn’t necessarily the case. It was something that was done. I’d like to say you get used to it but you don’t. Until society no longer deems it acceptable behavior from men, women have to, as you said, put up with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” She smiled as she saw a familiar face. “Straight ahead. Frank Capra, the movie director.”

“I know who he is,” Jack responded.

Peggy took in the gentleman approaching them. Capra’s hooded eyes and pronounced forehead gave him a brooding look, until he smiled, which is exactly what he did when he saw Peggy and Jack. He was dressed in a crisply pressed black suit, white shirt, and blood red and white striped tie.

“Welcome, ladies,” he said, his pleasant tone adding to his friendliness. “You must be new because I’ve never seen you here before.”

For a moment, Peggy was on edge but she covered it with a sweet smile.

“Yes, it’s our first time,” she said in a smooth American southern accent. “It’s all so overwhelming. This place is beautiful, so fancy. Mercy me! Where are my manners? I’m Margie Robertson, and this is Jackie Andrews.”

“Frank Capra,” the man said, shaking both of their hands, though lingering much longer on Jack’s.

Jack gasped. “Oh my goodness! Mr. Capra, it’s surely a pleasure to meet you! Your movies are… well, they are just the best, don’t you think, Margie?”

It took Peggy a few seconds to respond, unsure if she was more shocked by Jack’s exuberance or his speaking voice being almost as high as her own. “I’m afraid I don’t know your movies, Mr. Capra. I’m from a very small town in Kentucky. We don’t even have a movie theatre!”

“I’ll make sure she sees them all,” Jack replied brightly. “She just moved here. Why, she’s so pretty, I’ve been telling her she has a face that every camera would love.”

“Indeed,” Capra answered, though he never took his eyes off of Jack. “You must want to be in pictures as well, Jackie?”

“No, sir,” Jack said. “I work in my father’s textile factory.”

“My, that’s hard work for such a pretty girl.”

“Oh, Mr. Capra,” Jack responded shyly, fluttering his mascara-darkened lashes, “you’re too kind.”

Peggy smiled, biting the inside of her lip to fight off laughter. She hoped Daniel and Rose were hearing this.

“Vella just entered,” Daniel said in Peggy’s earpiece. She knew Jack had heard the same words but his expression never changed.

“Margie,” Jack chirped, “would you be a dear and get me a glass of wine? Cabernet if they have it.”

“I recommend the Inglenook,” Capra interjected. “I’d be happy to get it for you, Jackie.”

“It’s no bother,” Peggy said. “I’d like to get something for myself as well. I don’t care for champagne. I’m from Kentucky, raised on bourbon.” 

Capra glanced at her and smiled, then turned his attention back to Jack. “So, Jackie, where are you from?”

“New York originally,” Jack responded, “but my father moved out here to…”

Peggy ignored the rest of the conversation, heading toward the bar. She walked at a leisurely pace, smiling sweetly at every gentleman she encountered but not stopping. She glanced to her left and spied a hallway, assuming it was the hallway leading to the kitchen and closet. It was dimly lit, the only light sources being sconces above two doors, which must lead to the men and women restrooms.

Rose’s voice came through the earpiece. “Subject’s headed toward the bar.”

Peggy turned, wide-eyed as if amazed at her surroundings. Briefly she glanced at Jack, then tucked her hair behind her ear, the signal that she had eyes on their target. 

Glad-handing men as he went, Jack Vella did just what they had anticipated: made a path toward the bar. Though Peggy had seen his photograph, it didn’t do the man justice. He had movie-star good looks, tall with thick black hair and a dazzling smile. His tuxedo was meticulously tailored, and she saw a flash of gold on his cuffs. The word ‘debonair’ popped into her head. He looked like the epitome of tasteful, though Peggy knew the crudeness that existed underneath.

Vella arrived at the bar, and the bartender handed him a half-full whisky glass, the liquid just covering the two cubes of ice. Peggy took out her compact, moving it around as if checking her makeup. She wiped at the corner of her mouth and said, “Approaching,” then pressed her lips together as if evening out her lipstick.

“Copy,” Daniel responded in her ear.

Snapping the compact closed, she made her way to the bar. She shimmied herself between two stools that were just a few feet from Vella, who was facing away from her, talking to another guest. She raised her hand to the bartender, who approached her with a sly smile.

“What can I get ya, gorgeous?” he asked.

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she said, ending it with a high-pitched giggle. “I’ll take a bourbon, neat.”

The bartender blinked. “You sure about that?”

“Of course! My daddy says bourbon gives you fortitude.”

Chuckling, the bartender walked away, grabbing a glass tumbler. She watched him pour two fingers’ worth, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vella turns to face her.

“Your daddy is a smart man,” Vella said, toasting her with his glass.

“Yes, he is.” She stuck out her hand. “Margie Robertson.”

Vella took her hand and brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss. “Jack Whatley.”

The bartender interrupted, placing the tumbler in front of Peggy. “Here ya go. Hope you can handle it.” He added a wink directed at Vella.

She tittered, then raised the glass to her lips and took a healthy drink. “The first sip is always the best.” 

“I’d hardly call that a sip, Miss Robertson,” Vella said, amused.

“It’s Margie, and this is a _sip_ for me.” She took another drink, the glass nearly empty. “I’ve been drinking this since I was barely out of the crib. For a while, bourbon gave me nothing but a headache but now it’s just like drinking water.”

Vella laughed. “I take it you’re from Kentucky, given your bourbon appreciation.”

She smiled. “Sure am. Barlow, Kentucky, population two-hundred and five… well, four now that I’m here in California.”

Vella motioned to the bartender and pointed to his glass. “Another. And for the lady as well.”

The bartender took no time refilling, and Peggy toasted Vella before taking a daintier sip of her drink. Though she did have a high tolerance for alcohol, she needed to pace herself.

In her ear, she heard Rose’s voice: “In the van. Daniel and Myers heading in.”

Good, Peggy thought. Now all she had to do was turn on the charm.

“So, you’re Jack Whatley, the director, right?” she asked.

His eyebrows arched. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Of course. My friend Suzie… we both live at the same boarding house… she got a part in ‘Invisible Evil’. She met you here, some party or another.”

His brow creased. “Suzie…?”

Peggy nodded. “Suzie Collins. Tall, blonde, very curvy, from the Midwest.” Which she knew covered hundreds of aspiring actresses in Los Angeles. And she knew it matched the description of the real Suzie Collins, who was an extra in ‘Invisible Evil’.

“Ah,” Vella said, as if remembering the woman. “So this is a set-up. You’re a wannabe actress.”

“Well, I was in several plays in high school. Got the role of Penelope Sycamore in ‘You Can’t Take It With You’. The school newspaper said I was brilliant.”

Vella chuckled. “Such high praise.”

“You doubt my talent?” Her eyebrows arched in mock offense.

“No more than I doubt your fortitude.” He leaned closer to her, and she lowered her head. “Maybe you’d like to show me your… acting abilities, Margie.”

“In front of all these people?”

“No, I was thinking more of a… private audition,” he replied, a touch of sleaze showing in his grin.

She brightened. “Mr. Vella, that would be wonderful! I waitress in the mornings, but I’m available—“

He held up a hand. “It’s Jack, and I meant right now.”

She paused a few seconds, then said, “Oh.”

“I’m sure Suzie filled you in on the… audition process.”

She gave a timid smile. “Well, yes. I understand, and I’m willing to do anything to get my big break.” Placing her hand on his forearm, she added, “Anything.”

He nodded, not surprised by her answer, which fit the profile Manfredi gave her of Vella.

“But… where would we go?” She looked around, feigning ignorance.

“I know a little place,” Vella responded. “It'll do just fine for what I have in mind.”

Peggy swallowed, then straightened her posture as if resolving herself to what she had to do. 

Vella lightly touched her elbow, leading her from the bar toward the hallway. They walked in silence the rest of the way, and when they arrived at the hallway, Peggy stopped in front of the ladies room.

“Would you mind if I…?” She nodded toward the bathroom. “I need to… before we…”

He pulled her away from the door. “No need. The only thing you’ll be using are those pretty little lips of yours.”

She gave him an uneasy laugh. “Well then, I should refresh my lipstick.”

He matched her smile and took her clutch, opened the bathroom door and tossed it inside. “You won’t need that.” When he turned back to her, something in his expression had changed. His eyes were darker, mouth tighter. 

At that moment, Peggy knew she’d been made. And her only way to communicate was now in the restroom. She had to keep up the cover as long as she could. No chatter on the earpiece, but Jack had her back. She hoped.

“But… my clutch,” she gasped. “I don’t want anyone to steal it. Mama gave that to me for my birthday.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said, his grip tightening on her arm, leading her toward the closet. 

She tried to put the brakes on but he wouldn’t stop. “Uh… Jack… I think I changed my mind. I… should leave.”

He pulled her around the corner, a few feet from the closet door. “What’s the matter? Shy all of a sudden, _Margie Robertson_?”

Vella slammed her into the wall, face first, and pushed himself against her. She let out a gasp, then felt something hard in her back. She knew it wasn’t arousal; it was a gun.

“I don’t know who you are, sweetheart, but you’re not here for an audition.” Vella then turned her around to face him. “Don't move, and don’t you dare scream.”

Peggy did her best to look terrified, eyes wide and hands shaking. “I… I just want to be an actress, Mr. Whatley. That’s all. Honest! I’ve been out here for almost a year and--”

“Shut up! Who sent you?”

“Who… who… no one sent me! I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but--”

“I said, shut up!” 

He started pawing at her chest, pushing between her breasts; he was searching for a wire. Then he suddenly grabbed her head, turning it to the side and pulling it back. Before she had a chance to react, he slammed the side of her head against the wall. The side with the comb earpiece. The comb shattered, metal pieces piercing her skin, and she was seeing silver flecks from the blow to the head. 

“Please... Jack… Mr. Whatley... please,” she hiccupped, adding tears for effect. “I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry. Let’s just forget it--”

Vella grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the wall again, and then… nothing.

When she came to she felt herself flying then hitting a soft surface. It was a bed; they were in the closet. She scrambled to her feet, the silver flecks getting larger and her vision blurring. She’d underestimated the power he had. His slim physique hid unbelievably strong hands and arms. Manfredi failed to mention that part.

“Sit,” he snapped. 

She did as he said, the whole time her mind trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this. The plan was to get him to the closet, not to actually be in the closet. He was standing near the door, gun out in front of him pointed directly at her head. She glanced at the doorknob and knew it was locked. 

If she could get him to come closer, she had to take him down. Somehow. The dizziness was subsiding but not enough for her to form a coherent plan. The blows to her head must have been worse than she thought.

“I’ll ask again,” he hissed. “Who are you?”

Sobbing, she replied, “I already told you. Margie Robertson from Barlow--”

“Bullshit!” 

He pulled something from his jacket pocket. Peggy squinted and realized it was the wire from the comb.

“What the hell is this? That thing in your hair. It’s a wire!”

“My comb. That was what held the pearls and rhinestones on it.” She turned on the waterworks even more. “That was my grandma’s comb. She wore it on her wedding day. You wrecked my comb. How could you?!”

“Cut the theatrics.” He moved toward her, the gun still pointed at her head. “Last time before I pull the trigger. Who sent you?”

 _That's it_ , she thought. _Keep coming closer... almost… almost..._

The banging on the door made them both jump. Vella stopped in his tracks but was still staring at her.

“Um… hello?” came from the other side of the door. 

Peggy kept her smile to herself; she’d know Jackie’s voice anywhere.

“I hate to interrupt,” Jackie said, “but I left my purse in there. I need taxi money to get back home and it's in my purse.”

“We're busy,” Vella snapped. “Come back later.”

“But I can't,” Jackie pleaded, “I don't feel well and I need to go home. Please! The purse should be over on the desk chair.”

Peggy followed Vella’s gaze toward the desk but couldn’t make out the word he spat when he saw an ivory satin clutch. 

“I said we're busy, sweetheart. You can get your purse when we're done.”

“Now, I was trying to be nice,” Jackie said in a haughty tone, “but I guess that won't work. My father is one of the founding members of this club. I'm going to go find the manager on duty if you don't give me my purse right now!”

Peggy saw Vella’s jaw tightened. Unfortunately, his fingers tightened on the trigger as well. His hand did waver, though, and she could tell he was pondering shooting through the door. He then sighed heavily and went to the desk, though he kept the gun pinned on Peggy. He picked up the purse and put it under his arm.

“You say a single word,” he murmured to Peggy, “and I will shoot both of you.”

Peggy nodded quickly, keeping the tears going and terrified look in place.

Vella backed his way to the door, which he opened a few inches, and shoved the clutch outside. Suddenly he was propelled forward, his nose hitting the door. He pulled back, barely dazed, then yanked the door open to reveal Jack, gun trained on him. Vella also had his gun trained on Jack, both in standoff mode.

Peggy made her move. She ran forward, hitting Vella from behind, propelling all three of them forward into the hallway wall. Jack’s revolver skittered across the floor, while Vella managed to keep hold of his. 

As she shook off more dizziness, Peggy noticed Jack on the floor and Vella’s gun pointed at Jack’s head. At the same moment, the swinging door to the kitchen burst aside to reveal Daniel and Myers, both dressed white Flores Bakery uniforms.

“Don't even think about it,” Daniel said as Myers stepped forward, both with their guns at the ready.

“Shit,” Vella said, raising his hands. When Peggy went to grab his gun, he pushed her into the closet with one hand and grabbed the door knob to the back door with the other. Yanking the door open, he revealed a shabbily dressed but stone-faced Andretti, gun inches from Vella’s face.

At that point, Vella admitted defeat, his hands going up and mumbling something Peggy couldn’t decipher.

She relieved him of his gun and then pointed it at his neck. “Don’t move, don’t talk. Got it, Mr. Vella?”

“I knew you weren’t a dame,” Vella said.

Peggy didn’t ask if he meant her or Jack.

Andretti and Myers moved to Vella, pushing him against the wall to search him, then securing his hands behind his back. Both agents flanked him as they led him out the back door.

“Be careful,” Peggy added. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

Daniel moved toward her. “You okay, Peg?”

She nodded. “I’m good.”

Peggy looked down at Jack. His breathing was labored but otherwise he seemed fine. His dress, however, didn’t fare well, what with the long split up the left side. He sat up, legs sprawled.

“I’m okay, too,” Jack grumbled, “in case anyone cares.” 

Daniel smirked. “Uh, Jackie… a lady doesn’t show her undergarments.”

“Fuck you, Sousa,” Jack snapped. 

Daniel laughed as he followed Andretti and Myers out the back door. Peggy offered Jack a hand up, which he took.

“How did you know?” she asked Jack.

“Saw you go down the hall with Vella and then nothing. I checked the bathroom and saw your purse on the floor and knew it’d gone bad.”

She nodded. “You arrived just in time.”

“Told you I had your back.” He shook his head. “But don’t you ever ask me to do anything like this again, Carter. I mean it.”

“I don’t know why,” she quipped. “You make a great woman.”

“Maybe too great,” he answered acerbically. “Had two more guys grab my ass.”

Peggy couldn’t contain a laugh. “Rather enlightening to see how the fairer sex lives, isn’t it?”

“Enlightening wasn’t the word I was thinking,” Jack mumbled as he clomped out the back door in a most unlady-like fashion.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the places and people in this story are real!
> 
> • The Jonathan Club (Los Angeles gentlemen's club): <https://la-confidential-magazine.com/members-only-1>
> 
> • Frank Capra (movie director): <https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001008/>
> 
> • Dragna crime family (Los Angeles mafia): <https://mafia.fandom.com/wiki/Los_Angeles_crime_family>
> 
> • Louis Dragna: <https://mafia.fandom.com/wiki/Louis_Tom_Dragna>


End file.
